McKay's Encounters
by Soledad
Summary: Many people made a lasting impression on Rodney McKay, both at SGC and in Atlantis.
1. Chapter 1

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by** **Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

This is a series of loosely connected individual scenes, each of which describes one of Dr. McKay's encounters with another SG-1 or SGA character. These encounters range from friendship through unresolved romantic feelings to purely physical relief and back again. The general rating, which you see in the header, is R, for later parts. This part is rated G, suitable for all readers.

**Spoilers:** 48 hours

* * *

**Chapter 01 – Carter**

Rodney McKay's first encounter with Major Samantha Carter, an Air Force pilot and theoretical astrophysicist, was quite a shock.

Of course, he'd heard about her at Area 51. All scientists who'd ever worked with her spoke about her in the highest tones. Especially Dr. Murphy's drooling was disgusting, but the others weren't much better, either.

He'd seen photos of her, of course, and had she been ugly, or a wallflower at best, with thick glasses and a long, pointy noise, all the gushing wouldn't have annoyed him half as much. Her being ugly would have made up for her being brilliant. Or, to be more accurate, it would have made her so-called brilliance more believably.

But a pretty blonde who was supposed to be brilliant was an anomaly. Everyone knew that pretty blondes were dumb. They didn't _need_ brains. Relying upon their boobs and upon legs that went up to their chin was enough to get everything they wanted. Or every_one_. Unjustly enough, no one of them ever wanted _him_.

He arrived at SGC full willing to hate her and to reveal her as the pretender tat she definitely was. Bah! Her theories were full of mistakes, and her dialling interface for the Stargate had caused numerous unnecessary situations, any of which could have ended in catastrophe. Why couldn't anyone see that?

He only wanted to give her an honest analysis, for the sake of pure science and the security of the entire base. The Stargate was never meant to be used without a DHD. Even the Tok'ra – arrogant bastards that they were – had admitted that much. Carter's computer system ignored two hundred and twenty of the four hundred feedback signals the Stargate could emit during any given dialling sequence.

Not that she'd listen to her, of course. Military types never did. They took a look at him, assumed he was some sort of hippie, just because he liked to wear his hair a little longer than your usual military jarhead – really, just a compensation for a slightly receding hairline, but why should he offer any explanations? He was a civilian, dammit, and if he wanted to have hair that covered his ears, it was nobody's damn business and gave nobody the right _not_ to take him seriously!

He hated the very idea of coming to the SGC to begin with. Working in the desert of Nevada wasn't the quintessence of creature comfort, either, especially not for someone as claustrophobic as he was, and the food was awful, too. But at least there was only _sand_ above their heads, not tons and tons of massive granite. Merely being twenty-eight levels under Cheyenne Mountain worsened his claustrophobia exponentially. So he instinctively chose to be rude and arrogant to her – and to everyone else, as it was his wont every time he felt vulnerable.

Besides, they'd all deserved it. They were ignorant fools, and he was wasting his valuable time with them.

She was furious with him, of course. She couldn't understand that the situation was hopeless. That the crystals were wiped clean by an unstable vortex of a forming wormhole. That there was no way to establish an event horizon without the vortex. That even if they managed to create a viable event horizon without connecting to a wormhole, they'd never get the wormhole to reintegrate the alien whose energy patterns had been trapped in the Stargate. That resuming normal Gate operations was more important than saving one person who was beyond any help already.

Even if said person had been her friend and team-mate for the last four years.

She didn't understand, of course. She accused him of sabotaging her efforts to save her friend. He tried to point out to her that one couldn't simply ignore the laws of thermo-dynamics. That the crystals wouldn't retain their energy patterns permanently. But she wasn't listening to solid quantitative evidence.

She was guessing wildly, like she always did. No matter that more than a third of the energy pattern the Gate required to reintegrate a person whose pattern were stored in it was already gone. That even if _something_ would come out of it, it wouldn't be more than a lump of disfigured flesh and bones. Like after a Star Trek transporter accident.

He didn't spoke out loud that last argument, of course. Instead, he called her a dumb blonde who let her emotions rule her actions. But deep inside, he was envious. He wished someone would feel such an absolute loyalty towards _him_, too. That someone would risk everything to save _him_. Even listening to the advice of a Goa'uld and risking that the whole Gate would explode.

But he knew that wouldn't happen any time, soon. Never, most likely. He didn't do close, and he didn't have friends.

Hell, he didn't _need_ friends. He had his work and his colleagues, whom he could intimidate into obedience with his superior intelligence, and he had his work to provide said intelligence with proper challenges to prove his brilliance again and again. What else would he need? Socializing with _anyone_ would only take away valuable time from his important work.

She'd called her a certifiable whack job, whose judgement is being clouded by her personal feelings. He couldn't believe the military types would let her carry out her harebrained scheme that could have killed them all. Yet they did.

And sitting on the plane that took him to his Siberian exile, Rodney McKay dreamed of eyes blue like the summer sky, and hair shimmering like the golden sunlight, and of a radiant smile that was never directed at him in the two days he'd spent at SGC.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

I know that the Russian scientist is called Markov in canon. But in this, canon is wrong. A woman's name always has a female ending in Russian, which, in our case, would be Markova. Trust me; I used to have Russian lessons for ten years, so I know what I'm talking about. Also, using one's father's name as a middle name with a possessive ending is Russian custom. Addressing someone by their given name and their father-name is a sign of respect.

**Spoilers:** Nemesis, Watergate

* * *

**Chapter 02 – Markova**

Rodney McKay had always nurtured a firm belief in the superiority of American (well, actually Canadian) science and technology, compared with anything Russia – or any other pathetic Eastern-European country – might have offered. He had similar opinions about American (well, Canadian) scientists. Consequently, he considered the fact that the Russians had been able to recover the original Stargate from the bottom of the ocean and connect it with the DHD found by Germans in Egypt and confiscated by the Russian Army after World War II, as a personal affront.

That they'd managed to make off-world trips without the SGC detecting it had not only been a serious security breach. It also showed that – given the right circumstances – Russian scientists were capable of about the same achievements as their American counterparts. And that they had found the planet covered by sentient water – water that could generate countless amounts of clean heat energy – was annoying. Even if the now abandoned Stargate project had been led by someone of the qualities of Dr. Svetlana Markova.

Rodney had heard of Dr. Markova, of course. She was the Russian counterpart of Major Carter, and easily as brilliant as Carter herself. At least according to Carter, who clearly admired the other woman's work. Rodney wondered whether or not he'd get to meet this Russian girl wonder – although calling Dr. Markova a girl would be silly, considering her age. He guessed he would. She had worked on a secret base in Siberia. _He_ was on his way to a secret base in Siberia. Just how many secret bases could be hiding out in Siberia?

The futility of his question became clear for him during the countless hours of flight that gave him a vague idea about the true dimensions of Siberia, of course. He could never have imagined something to be so huge – and so empty. Nothing aside from the wilderness of his own home country, that is, which he never visited. Siberia was still sparsely populated, due to its harsh climate, and thus the ideal location for a great number of secret bases.

From Kuybishev, he was transported to his final destination by chopper. The whole journey took longer than he'd have feared, even in his worst nightmare. But the welcoming committee seemed genuinely happy to have him, and as his liaison to the Russian science community – a big and friendly bear of a man by the name of Gregori Oktharev, who probably was chosen for this thankless job because he spoke a surprisingly good, though heavily accented English – told him that he'd arrived just in time to join the party that they were throwing to celebrate their brand new _naquadah_ generator program.

Rodney would later learn that in the Siberian wilderness practically _every_ new event was a good enough reason for a celebration. And that Russians did _nothing_ by halves.

Especially not when it involved music and the consuming of ungodly amounts of _vodka_.

Still angry about his abrupt reassignment – behind which he suspected the hand of an extremely pissed Colonel O'Neill, who, according to some people at the SGC, had been like that every time a member of his team was in danger – not to mention hungry and jet-lagged, the last thing Rodney wanted was to go to a party. To a party that was held in some godforsaken Siberian lab in the middle of the _taiga_, with only wolves and bears as possible unexpected party guests. But Oktharev, who'd already offered him to call him Grisha, insisted that the party couldn't be hold without its guest of honour, and that they all would be most upset would their new colleague not join the celebration.

So Rodney dropped off his luggage in his future quarters (refusing to take a look around, as he was depressed enough already), washed his hands and face and let himself be dragged into a large gathering room that Oktharev had called their _aula_. And there he had the biggest surprise of non-scientific kind he could remember, ever since Daphne Phillips had agreed to go out with him. He only hoped that, unlike that awkward and painfully embarrassing date, this surprise would prove a more pleasant one.

The _aula_ must have originally been the middle floor of some abandoned power plant, but the Russians had managed to turn it into a buffet _and_ a dancing floor. Granted, everyone was wearing thick parkas and other warm clothing, but some people were playing guitars and accordions, and the mood seemed high enough already. A few people were dancing to the music, the others were standing at one of the lab tables that had been pushed to the walls and were laden with food and drink. Various sorts of warm and cold dishes were offered, _samovars_ were releasing the fragrant scent of freshly brewed tea, and even champagne bottles and flutes stood on a separate table.

Rodney blinked rapidly in surprise, several times. He'd expected to be welcomed with bread and salt (as some traveller's guides said was the tradition in Russia), not with champagne and caviar. But perhaps scientists did things differently. Well, as long as it was _food_, he could deal.

"What used this place to be before you guys turned it into a lab?" he asked Oktharev, selecting a particularly appealing _blini_ from one of the trays and taking a huge bite. Fresh sour cream poured into his mouth from the _blini_, and he closed his eyes briefly in bliss. He liked to snipe about Russian food, but he'd actually developed a secret fondness for _blini_s during his year in Finland, which had involved brief trips to Russia.

"Once it was a power plant," Oktharev replied, swallowing a piece of dark rye bread adorned with hard-boiled eggs and caviar in one. "And _experimental_ one. Needless to say that it wasn't a very successful experiment."

"I would assume it wasn't," Rodney remarked, his mouth full. "Otherwise, your government wouldn't be so eager to get their hands on _naquadah_ generator technology."

Oktharev gave him an odd look. "Look… Dr. McKay. I understand that you didn't want to come here in the first place. And I sympathize. I really do. But you should work on that attitude of yours. It won't win you many friends. And out here, friends are the only thing one really has."

With that, he turned around and left Rodney alone, spluttering in indignation.

And that was the very moment when Rodney set eyes on Dr. Svetlana Markova for the very first time.

Oh, sure, he'd seen pictures about international scientific conferences where she had appeared, complete with evening dress and the heavy mass of her dark curls tumbling over bare shoulders. Simon Coombs, the most rabid Trekkie among the scientists of the Western hemisphere, even called her a Greek goddess and stated that she had a vague similarity to Deanna Troi, the character Coombs had had an immortal crush on since the 1990s. Actually, Coombs' drooling was rather ridiculous, not to mention disgusting.

Rodney wondered what Coombs would say, could he see the woman now. Markova was wearing the same thick parka and trousers like everyone else, and her hair was twisted into a bun on top of her head; a bun so tight that it made one's scalp hurt from the mere sight of it. Her lovely yet sharp features clearly revealed her as a woman in her mid-forties, and there was a hardness in that face that didn't came from the facial structure alone. Only the dark, shimmering byzantine eyes were the same as in the pictures.

Someone pushed Rodney forth to introduce them to each other, and he hurriedly wiped his face and hands because he could see that Markova clearly represented the highest and most respected authority here.

"Svetlana Vassilyeva," the unknown female scientist said, "this is Dr. McKay, from America."

"From _Canad_a," he snapped, irritated that they couldn't make the difference. It wasn't so that any of the two countries wouldn't be big enough to notice. Or important enough. Just because people spoke English in both countries, it didn't mean that they were the same.

Those glittering, dark eyes were cold when they finally turned to him, making him feel like some lower life-form. All of the sudden, he became painfully aware of the fact that his fingers were slightly greasy and that there was sour cream smeared around the corner of his mouth.

Under normal circumstances, his own lack of table manners wasn't a problem for him. Not even a thing worth of any consideration. His brilliant mind was usually too occupied with _really_ important things to care for such mundane niceties, his time too precious. And most people were more than willing to overlook such insignificant little character flaws in exchange of the insights his genius provided into problems they weren't capable of solving without his help.

However, facing this regal – and certifiably brilliant – woman who managed to look, if not like a Greek goddess but certainly like some Russian noblewoman from the 18th century, even wearing a parka and the ugliest hairdo imaginable, Rodney McKay knew he shouldn't expect such leniency here. Carter might have found him irritating – hell, there couldn't be any doubt that she did – but at least she'd seen him as a human being. He wasn't sure he could expect Markova to do the same.

Back home, everyone knew he was a genius. Well, everyone in Area 51 or in any other place he'd ever worked, that is. Out here, his brilliance was a vague rumour at best. He'd have to prove his superiority to this people. And somehow he had the feeling that it would be a long and tough dogfight. One he'd hoped he would never have to fight again.

Perhaps it would have been better had he shut up at SGC. Even if he had been right with his criticism. But it was already too late for that.

Hurriedly, he wiped his mouth and his fingers clean with a napkin and gave Markova his most optimistic grin.

"Nice to meet you, doctor," he said brightly. "I'm sure we'll get along fabulously.

Markova looked him up and down as if he were a slab of meat hanging at the butcher's shop. And as if she expected to find something fundamentally wrong with him.

"We'll see," she said coolly. "It's up to you."

With a regal nod, she turned away and left him standing in the middle of the room, the forced grin slowly freezing on his face. Rodney felt his spirits sink even lower.

The word _exile_ had just become a brand new meaning for him.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by** **Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

We don't really know how Dr. Zelenka got into the Atlantis expedition. But I assumed that Dr. Weir chose from people already known for certain members of the Stargate program, and thought it would be easier to get Radek in via the Russians. Plus, this would give him a chance to meet Rodney pre-Atlantis.

**Spoilers:** None really.

* * *

**Chapter 03 – Zelenka**

Dr. Rodney McKay had been in Siberia for almost two months when he first met the man who'd become his right hand one day. At their first encounter, which was fairly unspectacular, to tell the truth, he couldn't have possibly imagined how essential this person would turn out for him in the not too far future.

Or that it would happen in a far-away, different galaxy.

The _naquadah_ generator project was making slow headway. Too slow for the taste of the Russian government, in fact, and as much as he hated to admit, Rodney knew he was part of the problem. Yes, he was a genius, but he was used to work with theories and computer models mainly, and being confronted with the real item threw him off-kilt, just as it had happened with the Stargate. To actually _build_ something was not his thing. He was a designer, not a boulder, and while not exactly clumsy, he still was a bit uncomfortable with the practical side of creativity.

The Russian engineers were good enough with the practical stuff, but they couldn't follow the irregular leaps of Rodney's thinking. Partially because none of them – not even Oktharev – spoke a good enough English to understand when Rodney explained his theories, partially because he was used to speak out loudly only every second or third thought, as his former colleagues at Area 51 were usually able to fill in the blanks.

After the unfortunate day when the first small-scale reactor model blew up into the face of two unlucky technicians, just because they had managed to completely misinterpret Rodney's half-phrased instructions, Markova decided that enough was enough.

"She's called in a few other people to help," Oksana Selikhova, a geophysicist of some importance, who was here to study the unusual qualities of _naquadah_, explained.

"Moscow promised reinforcements in two or three days," Oktharev added, "depending on the weather. We're not supposed to restart work until then."

"And what _are_ we supposed to do until the cavalry arrives?" Rodney asked, deeply insulted by the mere idea that he'd need _help_ from anyone.

"Find mistake," Oktharev shrugged. "Figure out why model blew up."

"I _know_ why the damned model blew up," Rodney fumed. "It blew up because your hopelessly incompetent technicians are unable to follow the simplest instructions, that's why!"

Oktharev and Selikhova exchanged long-suffering looks. So far, the Russians had endured Rodney's temper tantrums with the same fatalistic attitude as they endured the harsh climate or the Spartan accommodations. Vodka had played an important rule in this process. But it seemed that even Russian patience had its limits when it came to irate foreign scientists.

"I believe it would be better for you to rest, Dr. McKay," Selikhova said. "You look like you need it."

They left Rodney alone and sputtering in indignation – something that seemed to become a pattern with him and his Russian colleagues. Whenever they grew fed up with him, thy simply left. And since – unlike at Area 51 – he wasn't one of the department heads here, there wasn't a thing he could have done about it.

It was humiliating, and he hated it. He was used to subordinates and lab assistants cringle in fear when he had one of his moods but keep working nevertheless. The Russians calmly left and any work they might be doing was postponed. It was inefficient, but when he tried to push, they made mistakes. Not out of fear – they didn't fear him – but because they couldn't understand him when his thinking became erratic.

Unfortunately, the erratic periods were the ones in which he made the most progress. _If_ his co-workers could follow him, that is. Which the Russians, due to the language barrier mostly, obviously couldn't. With the possible exception of Markova, but she was the boss here and had her own research to do. She wasn't here to give Rodney a helping hand.

* * *

So the work on the _naquadah_ reactor was topped for several days, adding exactly those days to Rodney's Siberian exile. He spent these days working on a few personal projects on his laptop. But since he couldn't be sure that nobody would be able to break into his files, he could only work on insignificant things that didn't really challenge his intellect. This fact made him increasingly annoyed and difficult to deal with.

In silent agreement, the Russians chose to completely ignore him. Which was fine with him, as he didn't feel the overwhelming urge to socialize with them, either. He only left his quarters (a small, dark room with a low ceiling(1) that he nicknamed his prison cell) to eat.

Finally, on the fourth day of forced inactivity, he was called back to the lab. Apparently, the cavalry _had_ arrived, despite the inconvenient weather of this season. Entering the lab, Rodney's eyes fell upon a short, stocky young man first, who had flaxen hair, cornflower-blue eyes and a full, shockingly reddish beard as it is sometimes the case with fair-skinned, blond men from Northern Europe(2).

The young man seemed to recognize him at once (which wasn't a mutual act) as an ear-to-ear grin practically split his ruddy face.

"Rodney McKay!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Who'd have thought that we'd work together one day?"

The voice at last gave him away, in spite of that hideous, carrot-coloured beard. It was Mikka Toivannen, the brightest mind of Finland's young scientist generation; an electrical engineer with whom Rodney had made a pleasant – not to mention extremely drunk – nightly tour through Helsinki's bars and pubs after the conference was over.

"Hi Mikka," Rodney was grateful to see him, not only because his was the first friendly face in ages, but also because Toivannen was a truly excellent scientist who could make computers and other electronic equipment do things for him they wouldn't have done for anyone else. He was a passable mechanical engineer, too. _And_ he didn't take offence if people were unable to pronounce his name.

"How come they brought you in?" Rodney asked, trying to hide his relief. There was no need to give Mikka exaggerated ideas about his own importance.

"We were working on the new rocket propulsion system for the ESA when the Russians called in for help," Toivannen explained. "And since it's within our field, plus we both speak English _and_ Russian well enough, they specifically asked for us."

"Who's _us_?" Rodney frowned in suspicion. Too many people were already involved, and bringing in other nations – who weren't even supposed to _know_ about _naquadah_ generator technology – didn't make keeping confidential information, well, confidential, any easier.

Toivannen pointed with his bearded chin towards the middle of the room where a small, wild-haired man was talking with half a dozen Russians at the same time, underlining his words with animated gestures.

"Me and him. He's the best ESA could offer."

Rodney gave the slight man a critical look – and scowled. The guy looked like a clown, with that unkempt, wispy hair, the long nose and the wire-rimmed glasses that tended to slide down said nose and needed to be pushed back every thirty seconds or so. No, not like a clown – like a caricature of all those crazed scientists from really bad sci-fi B-movies from the 1950s.

Toivannen saw Rodney's reaction… and grinned.

"People tend to react to him like you did, at first," he said. "But he's a great guy, you'll see. Very competent and innovative. And patient. I heard that's a requirement when one has to work with you. Come, I'll introduce you to each other."

He grabbed Rodney's arm, ignoring his indignant protests, and dragged him to the newcomer. Who, by the way, was now surrounded by half the female staff, who gave him adoring looks. Not the sort of looks they'd give a perfect, muscle-bound male specimen, though. The sort of looks one would give an extremely cute puppy.

Yes, that was the right word. In his dishevelled way, the man was _cute_. Or what overly sentimental women would find cute. And _that_ was supposed to be a _scientist_? Rodney rolled his eyes, preparing to give Toivannen a piece of his mind, as soon as they were alone.

Before Toivannen could do the introductions, however, the masses parted for Markova. She was a woman who could do this by her mere presence. Rodney had no doubt he could have made even the Red Sea part, had she put her mind to it.

"Radomir Aleksandrovich(3)," she said with a warmth in her voice that Rodney hadn't heard before, "how good of you to accept our invitation."

The newcomer rolled grey-blue eyes behind those ridiculous glasses in mild exasperation.

"They just can't leave formalities, can they?" he said to Toivannen, with an accent that was less strong than that of the Russians' and slightly different. "Pleasure is all mine, Dr. Markova," he then replied to the personification of scientific – and possibly political – authority present.

Markova gave him a motherly smile, despite the fact that she couldn't be significantly older than him. It was a Russian thing. Women of a certain age acquired a weird kind of maternal authority.

"We're glad to have you here," she said. "And this is Dr. McKay with whom you'll work on this project."

The slight man grinned up into Rodney's less than enthusiastic face in an undeniably charming manner, his eyes twinkling.

"Hello," he said, extending a small but surprisingly strong hand. "I'm Radek Zelenka. Is pleasure to meet you. Your thesis about wormhole physics is… inspiring, to say the least."

And in that moment Rodney forgot the ridiculous hair and the unbalanced glasses. As he looked into those friendly, intelligent eyes, he knew that he'd not just found a fellow scientist who was (almost) equally gifted. He found someone who could one day become something he'd never had before.

A friend.

TBC

* * *

**End notes:**

(1) Siberian buildings tend to be small, with low ceilings and very small windows (if any). This is to preserve warmth, as it's easier to heat small rooms and has nothing to do with the level of technology.

(2) I've seen several Finnish men with the looks like that. It was… interesting.

(3) According to Icie, Radek is an official name of its own, although it _might_ also be the short form of Radomir. I assumed that the Russians chose the form to be more polite and respectful, even though Radek wasn't particularly fond of it. His father-name is my invention. As for the other scientists' names, I saw them mentioned in fanfiction, so they are probably fanon. But I liked the names nevertheless, so I kept them.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

To answer a recently asked question: no, this story doesn't have a plotline in the classic sense of the word. It's just a string of vignettes that show Rodney in various interpersonal situations. They do have an inner coherence, however, and in the end, they'll come to full circle… in a way.

**Spoilers:** Redemption, Parts 1 and 2

* * *

**Chapter 04 – Carter**

His reassignment from Russia to Area 21 had been a surprise. They didn't tell him anything about the reason, just to pack his duffel and catch the first plane heading the States. He hadn't been at home for six months by then, and even that only for a week. All of a sudden, helping the Russians didn't seem so important, though, and he was getting curious why.

Well, at least he could leave the _naquadah_ generator project in the capable hands of the little Czech guy with the weird hair and the even weirder name. Zalinka, Zerimba, or whatever the right pronunciation might be, had shown a fast understanding for _naquadah_ technology and could have easily replaced him months ago. At least where the practical side of their work was concerned. The man had magical hands, and all machines seemed to like him.

Rodney had made a mental note to draft the little Czech for Area 51 or for SGC, eventually – assuming he could get the security clearance for someone from a Middle-European state. It would have been a criminal waste of talent had they let the man in Russian hands.

Barely had he disembarked his plane when a Marine stepped up to him. He remembered having seen the man at SGC, but not his name. The sergeant told him he had to change planes and continue for Colorado Springs immediately.

By then, Rodney knew that something had gone terribly wrong. Nothing but the potential destruction of the entire planet would have inspired the Pentagon to put him into the same room with Sam Carter again. Not after their first, near-disastrous encounter.

On the plane the sergeant, whose name was apparently Stackhouse (which Rodney promptly forgot again, less than ten minutes later) summarized the problem for him with the sometimes endearing simplicity of a military mind. Basically, someone had dialled Earth from an off-world gate and kept the wormhole open, without sending through anything. Anything but energy, and even that in such small amount that the sensors hadn't even recorded it at first.

That had happened approximately seventy _hours_ ago.

Which meant the Gate, that was supposed to be open for thirty-eight minutes, tops, had been building up energy for sixty-nine _hours_, give or take twenty-two minutes.

Which was really, _really_ bad.

Rodney tried to calculate in his head how long it would take for the Gate to exceed its capacity to absorb the transmitted energy, before the _naquadah_, of which it had been made, became charged and would explode with a blast of two or three megatons.

He came up with a few days, under ideal circumstances. With a few more hours, should thing getting worse.

He also tried to come up with a method to shut down the Gate that shouldn't have even been open for the last three days.

He could think of nothing. Not yet, anyway.

Now he understood why he had been called back so urgently. He just wondered what Carter would say to his presence.

* * *

As expected, Carter was not exactly happy to see him. She was concerned and worn out, and the last thing she wanted was to deal with an unwanted suitor – which Rodney had to admit that deep in his heart he was. Not that he'd show any of it, of course. Well, not at first, that is. At first, they had clashed as it was their wont; he making lecherous remarks and flippant comments, and she questioning his every idea and refusing everything he proposed.

It was quite the surprise that – after the fiasco with the X-302, for which Rodney intended to chew out the planet's most inflexible scientist (also known as Dr. Larry Murphy) as soon as he got back to Area 51 – General Hammond was actually willing to listen to _him_, for a change- Not only that, the general even ordered _Carter_ to help him modify the EM pulse generator. And she _did_ help him, even though she never believed that it would work.

And it _didn't_ work. Just as she'd foretold. Not only did it not work, the opening of the iris also cut the time left to the detonation almost in half. _And_ Carter got electrocuted in the effort to close the iris again.

That was when Rodney lost it. He never wanted anyone to get hurt – _especially_ not Carter. So he lost it – and opened his heart, exposing his hidden feelings. It was awkward and humiliating, and he regretted it almost instantly. He knew she wouldn't turn it against him like the others had done, back when he had tried to get close to people before. But it was still hard, very hard.

He hadn't spoken about his family, about his failed career as a pianist, to anyone for many, many years. Not even in hints. He still couldn't understand what had made him bring up the whole sorry tale. _Pity_ had never been what he wanted from other people.

Carter was surprisingly… nice about it. Showing as much interest and understanding as she could bring up for someone whom she didn't even like. Who had just nearly killed her by accident.

She _was_ an artist indeed. The best the art of science could offer. He knew the rules and whatever could go wrong in any given situation. She rose above those facts and solved hopeless cases with intuition and pure genius. _And_ she was a generous winner, too.

Yes, he _was_ jealous. But he was also charmed and fascinated and totally conquered by her. Even if she _was_ insane, trying things that shouldn't _mustn't_ have been tried. And he realized with a bone-deep sadness that no matter what, there would never be anything between them.

Because, in the end, he really didn't have anything…

* * *

Against all hope, they managed to solve the problem, and he even got the chance to work with her on the solution, to help her save the world. Which was a first for him, so it should have been exciting. Only it wasn't, for some reason.

He left SGC with the certainty of a work well done. People were surprisingly friendly to him, and he even found a kindred spirit – well, sort of – in the alien boy with the wacky _naquadah_.

But when Carter kissed him on the cheek, all this seemed like nothing. Because he knew that this is all he would ever get from her.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

This scene happens parallel with the previous one. It just features a different set of characters. The twist on Kelownan culture is completely mine. I though it would be more realistic than expect every single extraterrestrial culture having the same social structures as our society.

**Spoilers:** Redemption, Parts 1 and 2

**Warning: **This particular chapter is rated Adult and contains some sexual interaction between two characters of the same gender. If it's not your cup of tea, do us both the favour and hit the Back button, **now**. Nobody forces you to read anything you know would upset you.

* * *

**Chapter 05 – Jonas**

As usual for the wistful thinking of the military, neither Carter nor Hammond was willing to believe that the hyperdrive of the X-302 wouldn't work. They believed Larry Murphy, that brick-headed idiot, who was doing his best to sabotage the entire project. Not intentionally, of course – only because he wasn't willing to listen.

It wasn't so that the esteemed Dr. Murphy didn't know his stuff – he did. The problem was that he had a one-track mind (and not in the romantic sense of the word) that made him incapable of considering other possible solutions than the only one he'd come up with, himself.

But he _was_ the project manager of X-302, and so everyone listened to him. Even as the unknown young man came to Rodney's help with the notes about all the Goa'uld research done on _naquadria_, notes that proved that the instability of the alien substance would increase exponentially as they tried to extract more energy out of it, General Hammond waved off their concern. The test flight got a go.

It went straight to hell, of course. Just as Rodney and the young man – the alien with the whacky _naquadah_ – had foretold. And so did he make the acquaintance of Jonas Quinn, who, despite his completely human looks (and rather good looks those were, almost depressingly so) and his plain human name, was an alien.

It was insane, really. Aliens ought to be – well, _different_. If they didn't sprout facetted eyes or antennae, at least they ought to have a strange air about them, like that intimidating Jaffa, Teal'c. Or a malevolent snake in their bellies, like Teal'c. Or elaborate tattoos on their foreheads. _Something_. Anything.

Granted, up to date Teal'c was the only alien Rodney had seen. But he didn't expect them, not even those who'd descended from abducted and enslaved humans, to be so… well, so _human_. After all, one didn't think of handsome, well-muscled young men in their late twenties when one heard the word "alien".

Or expect them to show completely human understanding when one's fellow earthlings did not.

Admittedly, for a moment or two he felt a tingle of irrational jealousy for the young man. For Carter being willing to listen to him more than to Rodney. For him having the idea that proved crucial for the saving of the planet. Granted, Rodney did have his own – albeit minor – part in _that_, but it was Jonas whom all the SGC people congratulated. At whom Carter looked with such a genuine fondness.

Rodney would have given an arm for that look being directed at him.

And yet it seemed that Jonas was still fairly unhappy, as if all that acknowledgement wouldn't make up for the very obvious rejection from Colonel O'Neill's side. Perhaps in his eyes it didn't, although Rodney couldn't understand why. After all, _everyone_ else liked the boy well enough.

* * *

Coincidence gave him the opportunity to ask for the reason, as on his way out he happened to run into Jonas on Sublevel 11, where he had to change elevators. The young man didn't seem to mind the question, although he chose his words very carefully… almost too carefully for such a harmless topic.

"For Kelownans, it's an instinctive reaction to seek out the support of older, more experienced people," he explained. "When I had to leave Kelowna, I imprinted on Colonel O'Neill, as he was the ranking officer of the unit. Dr. Jackson would have been a better match," he added thoughtfully, "but hadn't he died, I won't be here to begin with. And though I have the greatest respect for Teal'c, he's not the kind of authority I was looking for. I'm a scientist, not a warrior."

"What about Major Carter?" Rodney asked, simultaneously relieved by the obvious lack of concurrence from Jonas's side and insulted on the major's behalf that the alien boy wouldn't even consider her as a mentor.

Jonas shook his head. "She's a woman."

"I noticed _that_," Rodney said impatiently. "So what?

"We don't have… that sort of bond with the opposite gender," Jonas explained carefully. "In fact, the two sexes only mingle for… for procreational reasons. Mentors, lovers, friends – we seek them by our own gender. It's usually different persons who fill those places in our lives, as the demands are fairly high. On some rare occasions, though, we might be lucky enough to find all three in the same person."

"Were you lucky enough?" Rodney asked, a little envious, for although a gay romance wasn't exactly his idea of a working relationship, the closeness that such a thing would mean… well, he'd have certainly liked to have _that_.

"Oh, yeah," Jonas smiled sadly. "I was very, very lucky. I used to work with my mentor – and shared his bed – for six years. Until recently, when I had to flee Kelowna."

"And you hope to find the same thing in O'Neill again?" Rodney asked doubtfully.

"No," Jonas laughed. "I'm sure he'd break my nose if I tried to propose any such thing. I'm just looking for a new mentor. In my culture, having a mentor is the most important relationship – until you're old and experienced enough to _become_ a mentor yourself. But even them, people keep friendly contacts to their former mentors all their lives. It's the best way to social acceptance, and even for career headway, unless you're exceptionally bright. But that's a rare thing on every planet."

That was certainly true, and what Jonas had said _did_ make undoubtable sense. Still, it left a somewhat unpleasant aftertaste for Rodney. He didn't know why. It wasn't _his_ society, after all, and nobody asked him to live that way, did they? Besides, Jonas seemed content enough with the arrangement – at least in theory. Rodney doubted that he'd get many chances to practice it on Earth.

"What about families?" he asked.

"We don't have them – not the way your people do," Jonas shrugged. "Our clan elders arrange mating partners for us, based on genetic compatibility and with the goal of siring talented and healthy children. Female children are raised in the clan of their mother and wear the mother's name. Male children come to the clan of their father at the age of six, and wear the father's name. They learn their role in society through example."

"A complete separation of the genders?" Rodney asked in surprise. Well, at least it solved the problem of unwanted children and ensured a healthy mix of the gene pole.

"Not entirely," Jonas said. "Schools are separated for girls and boys till the age of sixteen, but after that, we have co-education, to learn how to work together with the opposite sex. Jobs are handed based on talent and ability, not on gender."

"Still, it's… unnatural, somehow," Rodney said awkwardly.

Jonas shrugged again. "It works for us. As far as I know, this has been the custom in Kelowna for the last fifteen hundred years, or even longer. There have always been people who had a different… gender preference, of course, but those usually leave for one of the other major powers on our planet."

"I thought your were at war with Terrania and the Andari Federation," Rodney said, remembering a few facts he'd picked up about Jonas' people in the commissary. It was fortunate that Marines liked to gossip just as much as everyone else. At least as long as their superiors weren't within earshot.

"On the verge of war," Jonas corrected, "do anyone defecting to them is considered a traitor, no matter what their reasons are. That's why people who feel attracted to the opposite sex are hiding their urges very carefully, unless they decide to flee."

"But you're not one of those?" it wasn't really a question, after all that Jonas had told him already, but for some reason Rodney felt he needed to ask.

"I'm pretty flexible," Jonas replied with another one of his self-deprecating shrugs. "But yeah, I prefer the traditional way – well, what's traditional _for us_, in any case," he flashed a dimpled grin in Rodney's direction. "Interested?"

Rodney opened his mouth to give an indignant answer but found that it was hard to speak with another man's _extremely_ agile tongue examining his tonsils. It was a _very_ thorough examination, and before he could gather his wits to react in any possible way, strong hands grabbed him and shoved him through some indefinable door into a windowless little room, and suddenly he was on his back on a hard surface, and those strong, skilled hand were everywhere on his body, under his shirt, and even in his trousers, oh God, in his trousers…

He wasn't completely ignorant when it came to same-gender fumbling, because to whom could scrawny little geeks turn in high school for a little fun than to each other while all the pretty girls were drooling over brain-damaged quarterbacks? But those awkward and clumsy hand-jobs in the washroom were nothing compared with the skills of this young man – this _alien_, his numb mind vaguely realized the fact – who could have been the stuff for wet dreams for all the women of the planet, and yet, for some reason, he'd chosen to have some fun with _him_, of all people.

Maybe on Kelowna brains played a major role when people chose their sex partners?

And that was the moment when the surreality of the whole situation hit Rodney like a brick wall. The realization that he was having sex with an _alien_ on the desk of a dusty storage room; and it was hilarious, it was bad sci-fi from the 1950s, it was just _not_ happening to him, no way…

Only that it was. At the very least, said storage room also contained slippery substances, and who would have thought that shower gel could be used for _that_?

But he was beyond caring. He hadn't had any company than his own hand for six months, he was so hard that it hurt, and Jonas' mouth was hot and sweet on him, and if this was all he would get here, at least it was _good_, and there was definitely such thing as overthinking things…

And then Jonas's slippery fingers touched that special spot deep within his body, and all consideration dissolved into white-hot pleasure, and he bit his lower lip clean through in the desperate effort of not howling at the moon. In case it _was_ nighttime outside the Cheyenne Mountain, and the moon was visible at all, that is.

He only hoped the military didn't have security cameras in the storage rooms.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

Because you have to be a friend to endure all that Carson had to endure from Rodney…

**Spoilers:** Rising 1, Hide and Seek.

* * *

**Chapter 06 – Carson**

The friendship of Carson Beckett was quite the surprise for Rodney McKay.

When he got reassigned from Area 51 to the base on Antarctica, the most he had expected was to continue the good working relationship with Zerinka… Zalinka… well, whatever the little Czech was called. He still couldn't remember the name. A good thing that the man had offered him first-name-basis as soon as he'd got the security clearance and arrived on Antarctica. At least _Radek_ was a name he could keep in his mind.

As expected, Radek turned out an excellent co-worker again, who went along fabulously with Grodin, Kavanagh, Simpson and all the others. That made him invaluable for Rodney, for so he could concentrate on the more important project of the base. Like the chair that operated the most powerful weapon ever seen on Earth. Or anywhere else in the galaxy where one could get via the Stargate system.

That was when Carson Beckett arrived and revealed his fantastic discovery: a rare gene that enabled certain people to make previously inactive pieces of Ancient technology work.

As much as he always declared that he didn't care, Rodney was extremely jealous of the good doctor, who happened to have the gene, while he, who'd need it badly to work with Ancient technology, did _not_. And what was even worse, the good doctor was extremely hesitant to use the wonder gene. In fact, he seemed to be deadly afraid of Ancient technology as a whole.

Unlike that annoying flyboy, Major Sheppard. There were times when Rodney almost wished Carson hadn't been able to stop the Ancient drone and shot the cocky pilot off the sky. Almost, but not quite. Firstly, because they _did_ need the man, no matter how annoying he was, and secondly, because Carson wouldn't be able to live with the guilt.

It seemed strange to him that he would care for Carson's feelings – he usually didn't care what people felt as long as they did what they were expected to do. But he had to admit that the doctor had grown on him during their time on Antarctica. Why else would he bother to drag _Carson_ to whatever piece of Ancient machinery he wanted to initialize? He could have called for half a dozen other people who had the gene, too, and handled it a lot easier and more willingly than Carson did. So, why did he always choose Carson?

As usual, it was Zalin… Zerin… it was _Radek_ who delivered the solution unknowingly. The little Czech had the enigmatic ability to cut to the core of every problem, scientific or otherwise, while focussing on something entirely different.

"So, where is grumbling Dr. Bear today?" he asked one day, struggling with a particularly stubborn piece of Ancient equipment. "Hiding in his cave from scary technology?"

That harmless joke brought the answer Rodney had been looking for all the time. More than an answer, really – a revelation. Radek's careless remark made him understand why he sought out Carson's (rather reluctant) assistance whenever he ran into a problem.

The big, soft-speaking Scotsman reminded him of an oversized teddy bear. And while he wasn't the type to wallow in childhood memories – his childhood had been something he preferred to forget as completely as possible – there was one thing he associated with the memory of that particular toy: safety.

Not because of the similarities in appearance alone. Carson Beckett only panicked when facing things that were way outside of his field. As a doctor, he was competent, talented and focused. In his own element, he could do practically anything – even giving some people artificial ATA gene. As a doctor, he _would_ do anything to help his patients, regardless of personal costs.

And that was what made Rodney feel safe in his company.

That was why he volunteered for the experimental gene therapy, against all possible concerns. Well, of course, the chance to work with Ancient technology first-hand _had_ played a major role in his decision, too. But had any other doctor offered him the therapy, he'd have most likely refused to play the guinea pig.

The bottom line was, he _trusted_ Carson. He might call him a witch doctor, might call his field voodoo science, but he never doubted that in the end, whatever Carson tried, would work. Which was strange, as trust didn't come easily to him, and he barely knew the man. But the trust was there, definitely, and so was the surreal sense of safety.

Strangely enough, the trust between them seemed mutual. As much as Carson whined about not wanting to play with Ancient toys that tended to blow up unexpectedly, he let himself dragged away from his own research by Rodney every time. Well, by Radek, too, but that was practically the same. As often as he grumbled about Rodney's ridiculous hypochondria, he never sent him to one of his nurses for treatment, not even if Rodney came to the infirmary with an injury of the magnitude of a paper cut.

As unlikely as it seemed to Rodney, he had to admit that Carson actually _cared_. He wasn't sure if that caring had a personal note or was just genuine concern for someone whose well-being was crucial for their survival, but it was a nice feeling nevertheless.

It was similar to the companionship with Radek, and yet different. Radek trusted him in scientific things because he _knew_ that Rodney was a genius. Which didn't keep him from double-checking Rodney's work, just in case, but still. Carson, on the other hand, had no idea what they were working on in the labs. But he trusted Rodney because – well, there was no particular reason. He simply trusted Rodney to do the right thing.

Rodney hoped feverishly that he'd never disappoint the good doctor. Losing the trust of people he worked with would have been bad enough. But losing the trust of a friend… he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with _that_.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by** **Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

Alexandra Rietz is a character from my other SGA story, "Moments of Joy". She's borrowed from a German cop show. The civilian security team is my invention. They are supposed to have come with the German scientists.

**Spoilers:** Hot Zone, Letters from Pegasus.

* * *

**Chapter 07 – Miko**

At first he found that she was the most annoying woman in the world – or, at the very least, in Atlantis. Servility always brought out the worst of him. That was why he liked to work with Nelenka… Zolinka… whatever his name was. That scrawny little Czech blithely ignored his outbursts most of the time, and when reached the limits of his endurance, wasn't afraid to stand up to Rodney and give him a piece of his mind. Calmly and patiently. Which made him – aside from his brilliance – an invaluable asset to the science team.

Miko was the exact opposite. She seemed to live in permanent fear of Rodney's tempers, which could only partially be explained with the traditional Japanese respect towards authority figures. She made almost pitiful attempts to stay in Rodney's good graces, taking his constant verbal abuse as something that she'd deserved.

Because the shameful truth was that Rodney treated her like shit. He tortured her with acerbic remarks concerning her work – which, truth be told, was beyond brilliant. No one else could make computers do things Miko cajoled out of them. A Princeton graduate, she shared one of her fields with Za… with _Radek_, but in certain areas not even the talented little Czech could catch up with her. She and Peter Grodin were the only ones who could really understand the imagining system of Ancient computers. That made her so valuable for the team.

Everyone knew she was an ace in her chosen field, with an IQ as high as Radek's, which was close to Rodney's own. And yet she was such a doormat that Rodney could howl from sheer frustration. An almost-genius like her ought to know her own value. Hell, she even had the natural ATA gene – and a strong one at that, seconded by Sheppard's only. But she was afraid to use it for anything else than turning on lights and opening doors. Just like Carson. It was really, _really_ annoying.

So Rodney, whose artificial gene was a lot less reliable, took out his frustration on her. He made her prepare coffee, just to spit it out and lecture her about her inability to make any _decent_ coffee. He made her ring him sandwiches, only to threw them in her face, telling her that they were inedible. At least once in a week, he had her in tears. This sadistic streak he had never known he possessed before worried him sometimes, but he was unable to stop. Yes, she brought out the worst of him by never standing up to him.

The others – especially Grodin and Radek – watched this abusive game with growing concern. More and more frequently did he catch the little Czech shooting him warning glances, and he knew a mutiny was about to break out in the science department if he continued mistreating Miko. Radek could shrug off a lot of shit directed at _him_ – growing up behind the Iron Curtain made a man resilient against mere nastiness – but he was very protective towards the weak, and had no understanding for pointless cruelty. Rodney knew that sooner or later Radek – or possibly Grodin, too – would confront him in this matter, and that it won't be pleasant.

And still, he was unable to stop.

* * *

Until the day when the flood broke one of the abandoned labs and released a deadly nanovirus from containment. Major Sheppard, in his sheer stupidity, couldn't sit on his ass as ordered (because, apparently, orders given by the _civilian_ leader of the expedition didn't count for military airheads). Due to his little personal mutiny (which Bates, dick-headed Marine as he was, felt obligated to support against the _civilian_ leader) poor Petersen escaped and spread the virus all over the city.

It was a close call. They could have died, all of them, save the ones with the gene. When everything was over, and the Major got to play hero and destroy one of their invaluable _naquadah_ generators, just to save them all from the consequences of his own stupidity, Rodney was sitting in his darkened lab, alone. Sheppard was celebrating with his buddies, Carson and his staff were dealing with the dead, Radek was most likely breaking down in the comforting arms of Marta, his Athosian wife, and he…. He was alone in the lab. As usual.

Wallowing in self-pity wasn't his wont, not usually. Time was always too valuable for that. Sure, he complained a lot, about nearly everything, but that was just a way to deal with his over-charged nerves. At the moment, however, loneliness weighed heavily on his heart.

He always made a lot of noise about how he didn't do close and how he didn't need friends. About people not needing to like him, as long as they listened to his instructions and did their job as he expected from them. But the truth was, deep down he _yearned_ for understanding. For people simply _liking_ him. Sure, he expected them to admire his genius, which they usually did (it would be hard not to), but sometimes he wished they'd see more of him than just his brains. That they didn't just tolerate him because he was useful.

A gentle touch on his forearm interrupted his brooding, sending a sharp jolt through his entire body. A small, warm female hand rested on his sleeve. The golden skin and the short fingernails revealed it to be Miko's. He didn't need to look at her. The faint scent of jasmine perfume was exclusively hers.

He turned to her nevertheless, meeting dark, almond eyes full of gentle understanding. Miko knew a great deal about loneliness, too. And in that long, wordless moment a connection he'd never thought possible was made.

He'd never seen Miko as a woman before. Despite his short – and unexpected – interlude with Jonas Quinn during his visit at SGC two years ago, his interest was still firmly focused on pretty blondes of the female kind. On Major Carter, for starters, who was everything he wanted for in a woman: smart, witty, funny – and _blonde_.

Or on Officer Rietz from the civilian security team, who was, in many things, like Carter, with the exception of a scientific mind. But in her own way, Alex Rietz was smart and witty and funny, too, not to mention slim and trim – and _blonde_. Had Rodney had a free chance to choose of all the women in Atlantis, he'd have chosen Rietz.

And yet he was kissing Miko now, his hands buried in the loosened strands of thick, jet-black hair, exploring her soft mouth that tasted faintly of green tea and of some elusive sweetness that was uniquely Miko. She yielded to his dominance willingly, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the lab table. She was pleasantly rounded and yet somehow fragile and barely weighed a thing, or was he too carried away to notice such irrelevant details? He didn't care.

He didn't care that having sex with a fellow scientist on a lab table – and with a direct subordinate at that – wasn't exactly considered appropriate behaviour. He didn't care that among the things he swept off the table to make room for them could have been sensitive pieces of equipment that might be irreparably broken as a result. He didn't care that someone could come in and catch them in a compromising situation. He _needed_ this, he needed the only person who seemed to want him, despite the shitty way he'd been treating her.

He needed to feel that he was still alive.

Miko was not a very vocal lover. In fact, she was quiet like a butterfly. Apparently, she wasn't very experienced, either… almost clumsy, to tell the truth, and the lab table was far from comfortable. But their mutual need was much stronger than the small matters of creature comfort – or the lack thereof – and so they managed.

It certainly wasn't the most mind-blowing sex either of them had ever experienced. He didn't last long, and there were moments when he was sure he'd hurt her, though she didn't complain. When he finally broke – much too soon, but that's what the lack of practice did to a man – she suddenly went limp under him with a soft sigh, and her eyes clouded over.

And he noticed for the first time how beautiful she was.

* * *

On the next day, things continued as usual. Rodney yelled at Miko for just about everything, Miko was in tears and Radek and Grodin gave Rodney threatening looks. The same old routine, day after day.

But after they'd recorded their probably last messages for home, it was Rodney who sought out Miko, not in the lab this time, but in her quarters. She let him in wordlessly, and they made desperate love for hours, because despite his romantic enthusiasm for Carter or Rietz or any other woman, _this_ was reality. Back on Earth, he only had an uncaring sister and a cat, hut here, in Atlantis, he had Miko. Whatever he might feel for other women, they were only daydreams, Miko, on the other hand, was _his_.

And he realized, to his mild surprise, that he wasn't willing to give her up. Unless the Wraith made dinner out of them in the near future, that is.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by** **Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

You know this one had to come, right?

**Spoilers:** Hot Zone, The Siege and Intruder (SGA), as well as Reckoning 1-2, Threads and Moebius 1-2 (SG-1). Really mild ones only.

* * *

**Chapter 08 – Carter**

His reunion with Carter was different than expected. The underlying attraction was still there, in a way, but they had both changed during the recent year. Rodney more than Carter, truth be told. He was more mature now, for he had learned what loss truly meant – something that Carter had known for quite some time. But for Rodney, losing people who were close to him – as close as he was able to let him – was a new experience, one that had sobered him considerably.

The memory of all those who had died within that short year still haunted his dreams. Sumner and Markham and the Marine named Smith whose face he couldn't even remember. The ones killed by the nanovirus with a speed and brutality barely imaginable… that was even harder, for the victims had belonged to his department, he's worked with him day after day. Forty-odd people, both humans and Athosians, killed during the siege of Atlantis. Ford, who was lost and crazy from Wraith hormones circulating in his body. And, of course, Peter Grodin.

How could he ever forget Peter Grodin?

He didn't forget the names of his co-workers anymore. He kept misspelling Zelenka's name intentionally, just to rile up the little Czech, although he knew that Radek had long seen through his pretence. But the bickering about it gave them a sense of normality. AS if everything would be all right… while in truth nothing was.

They hadn't beaten the Wraith – they had just fooled them. And that wasn't a safe – or even permanent – solution. Everyone knew that. They just chose not to speak about it.

It felt good to speak about those things by dinner with Carter, though. She listened to him with genuine interest – a definite first – but her eyes were full of sorrow, more so than the last time. So he gathered his courage and asked her what was wrong. She was startled at first, but seeing that he meant it, she decided to give him an honest answer.

This vas the very first time that she spoke about personal things with him.

It seemed that the recent year hadn't been a good one for Earth, either. The only difference was that most of its inhabitants had no idea of the threat hanging above their heads. Or endangered them from within, which was even worse. At least they could be certain about their own people in Atlantis. The enemy had long, white hair, bad teeth and the straightforward goal to suck the life out of you. Nothing more, nothing less

Carter told him about the Trust, about the desperate struggle to save the Asgard from the Replicators, about Anubis' near-miss to destroy Earth (again), about Dr. Jackson dying and returning from death (again), about the time-travel in a weird puddle-jumper, a travel that enabled them to find a fully functional ZPM in Egypt. At least the latest thing was something vaguely related to Atlantis, so Rodney could make some half-hearted comments.

But she also spoke of the death of her father, who had been given four additional years as a Tok'ra, against all hope. And about her short-lived relationship to a detective named Pete Shanahan, who was a good man but could not keep up with the sort of life she led.

Rodney was not surprised that she'd tried the regular thing. The meet a nice man, fall in love, get engaged, buy a house sort of thing. Deep down many women wanted those things, even the ones who should be beyond such mundane urges. _Especially_ those. Being exceptional was painful sometimes. No one understood that better than Rodney McKay, certifiable genius and smartest man of the Pegasus galaxy. Or both galaxies, most likely.

However, he wasn't surprised either, that her attempts to live a so-called normal life failed. She was larger than life, she was born to achieve great things, and no nice, normal man could live with that. It was a strange twist of fate that while the majority of intelligent men was completely content to live with stupid cows, as long as they were pretty enough, smart women were reluctant to live with men of inferior intellect. That predestined the smartest women to a lonely life, as men generally disliked women who had more brains than they had.

Rodney suspected, though, that the level of education had not been the problem between Carter and her now ex-boyfriend. Rather the fact that she wasn't really free to choose a partner because she'd been bonded with her team-mates for seven years already. That was a closeness for which there was no substitute. And while that detective might not have a problem with Carter's brains, he probably wasn't willing to share her attention with three other men who already had a long history with her.

Perhaps Pete whatshisname knew he would always come second after her team. That wasn't the best basis for a permanent relationship. No man had so much understanding.

* * *

It didn't surprise him, either, that she invited him over to her house after everything had been told and discussed. It seemed… natural somehow, an inevitable consequence of everything that had taken place between them. They had come from being adversaries to being allies, then almost-friends, and now lovers – although he was uncomfortable with the L-word, even in thought, because he knew that what they had was something different, less than _that_ and yet more at the same time.

How could it be any easier? "Complicated" was Rodney McKay's middle name, after all. Everyone who'd met him more than once could testify that.

The only thing he wasn't entirely sure about was Carter's motivation.

"Sam," he said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion; they'd reached first-name-basis hours ago. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You mean you don't?" she asked back, her eyes dark and serious.

"Well, yes, of course I want it," he cursed his confused feelings that always made a stuttering idiot out of him despite his superior intellect; it was embarrassing, really. "I mean it's great and all, but… I'm not some kind of consolation prize," he added, almost defensively. She smiled at that, a small and understanding smile full of sorrow and loneliness.

"I don't consider you as a consolation prize," she said.

"So what _is_ this about then?" he asked, still a little unsure.

"About comfort," she replied bluntly. "I don't want to be alone tonight – do you?"

"No," he admitted," but are you sure that I am the one you really want?"

"You are the only one I can ask," she said.

"Because I'll go back to a far-away galaxy in a couple of days so you won't have to face me afterwards?" he asked sarcastically.

"That's part of the reason, yes," she said. "But mostly because you're the only one of my friends who'd understand. Besides, you've always been… interested, haven't you?"

"Of course I have, I'm neither blind nor stupid," he replied, irritated. "I just hoped for… different circumstances."

"We always hope for something else, don't we?" she sighed. "Look, if you'd prefer to return to your hotel, it's all right. I understand. I didn't consider that you might have found someone in the meantime."

"I haven't," he said, and it was true. What he had with Miko had been born out of despair and loneliness and was by no means a regular thing. Or a permanent one. "And I'm not backing off. I've wanted this – wanted _you_ for too long to let this chance pass. Because there won't be another one, will there?"

"Not likely," she admitted.

"Well, then," he said with false brightness. "If this is our only chance, what are we waiting for?"

* * *

And so the long-nurtured dream of Rodney McKay came true at last, and it was everything he'd hoped for… and more. And yet when he left Carter's house in the following morning, he felt a strange emptiness, despite his well-loved body, because he knew that every chance he might have had, every hope he might have nurtured, no matter how unconsciously, was now over for good. The physical attraction between them had been satisfied, and they had never been close enough to become true friends.

Nor will they have the chance to build a friendship. She was leaving the Stargate program to build spaceships – a task much better suited her talent and knowledge – and he was needed elsewhere.

If he learned anything during his short visit on Earth it was the fact that he didn't belong here anymore. He'd said his goodbyes to Jeannie, settling a few old conflicts as well as he could. He'd fetched the only living being that had really meant anything to him in the years before Atlantis. She was waiting patiently in her cage to be shipped out into the Pegasus galaxy – cats were truly agreeable creatures. He'd sold his flat and put the few things he possessed into storage.

He'd practically deleted his past on Earth. It was only proper to bury his last dream under the ruins as well.

His future was in the Pegasus galaxy. In the close-knit community of a handful of equally uprooted men and women, fighting vampiric aliens who wanted to eat them, looking desperately for energy sources to keep their ten-thousand-year-old relict of a city up and running. He was _needed_ there, more than anywhere else before. They had a community there, camaraderie, a closeness that had been nearly forgotten on Earth.

For the first time in his life, he was not an outsider. He was part of the team, and people counted on him and watched his back in exchange. Severing his roots to the home planet was the logical thing to do, so that he could fully concentrate on the demanding tasks waiting for him back in Atlantis. That was where he belonged now.

He only hoped that Miko liked cats.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

Some lines of dialogue at the beginning of his chapter are quoted from the episode "Duet" – with a few alterations.

**Spoilers:** Duet. Obviously.

* * *

**Chapter 09 – Katie**

"You have a date, Rodney? With a woman?"

For some reason, Beckett's question – and even more the barely concealed disbelief in the good doctor's voice – irritated him to no end. So did the nosiness of Lieutenant Cadman, for that part.

"It's simply two adults sharing some friendly…" he began, and then he glared at Carson. "Yes, with a woman! Whom should I have a date with, a Wraith?"

Carson and the pretty Marine giggled, which was ridiculous and annoying, and… yes, mostly annoying.

"Well, she's excited about it," Cadman grinned. "Not sure why, though."

Rodney wasn't sure either. The whole idea hadn't been his to begin with. He never wanted to go out with Katie. Sure, she was pretty, when one was into brunettes with wide, hazel eyes and a sensuous mouth, but she didn't like the dogged insistence she was pursuing him. It made him uncomfortable, cornered. The way she made doe-eyes at him and giggled in his presence, and…

"Wait a minute," he glared at Cadman. "How would you know?"

"Girls' poker night," Cadman told him. "I know a lot of things, McKay."

Oh, wonderful. Now they were discussing him behind his back. Meaning, they were discussing _him_, not only his tempers, his lack of table manners or whatever people liked to complain about him.

He just hoped Miko didn't play poker.

Nah, unlikely. And even if she did. She wouldn't tell the other girls anything. She was discretion personified. It was a Japanese thing – never bring the boss into an uncomfortable situation. He appreciated it. If only other people would share the sentiment.

"I'm sure it's none of your business," he told Cadman tersely. "This is an inappropriate field discussion."

Cadman rolled her pretty eyes. "What? I was just suggesting you might wanna pick some flowers…"

Before Rodney could get _really_ irritated, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a Wraith Dart, and the worst nightmare in Rodney McKay's life began.

* * *

When their ordeal was over and he safely separated from Cadman again, he was left with the unpleasant task to let Katie down gently. Most people would probably think he was an idiot not to accept Katie's advances, but most people had no idea. The truth was, he'd found the situation awkward from the beginning. Even if he didn't have Miko to consider, Katie wouldn't have been the woman he'd ever choose.

Firstly, Katie was the kind of woman who wanted the whole dinner-and-a-movie thing. That, and cuddling, and long, inane chats and the whole romantic folly Rodney really didn't have the time for. Or the interest.

Their first – and so far only – date had been disastrous enough, due to Cadman's interference, which had made it extremely hard for him to nip the whole thing in the bud. She'd managed to make Katie believe that Rodney was actually interested in her. Which he wasn't.

Not beyond the purely physical level, and that sort of thing didn't work in a closed community like Atlantis.

Besides, if he wanted female company – or sex – he could always seek out Miko. Theirs was a purely practical relationship, with no string attached on either side, and with a way out any given time for both parties involved. Plus, they could always talk about work, which was the only topic Rodney could bring up any true interest for.

In the lab, Rodney didn't treat Miko differently than he would any other subordinates. The only difference was that he didn't have to make scathing remarks about her work anymore. Miko had learned what he wanted and how he wanted, and she had discovered her own strength and ability to fulfil those demands. That gave her the necessary self-confidence, so she didn't burst out in tears whenever Rodney got into rant mode any longer.

When they were alone, they talked about work, mostly, save from the extremely rare occasions when they felt the need to discuss personal matters. That is, Rodney did most of the talking, with Miko interjecting small, intelligent remarks that proved stimulating for his overactive mind, and she never complained when he stormed out in the middle of a conversation to check something in the lab. Quietly but firmly, she'd established herself in his life, providing a solid background that he desperately needed to be able to function, always supportive, never asking anything for herself.

Katie would find such a relationship abusive. Actually, Rodney sometimes caught _Radek_ watching them with a frown. After Peter Grodin's death, Radek was the only one who knew that they were more than colleagues, for the simple reason that Radek generally seemed to know everything that occurred in Atlantis. Rodney knew that the little Czech didn't completely approve. Radek was a romantic at heart – his early marriage with Marta proved that – and thought that Miko deserved better.

What Radek couldn't understand was the fact that Miko didn't want a cozy home like the one Marta had created. For all her submissive demeanour, Miko quite jealously guarded her independence. She was a brilliant scientist who took great pride in her work – and rightly so. Unrelated to this fact, she _chose_ to support Rodney, mainly out of respect, and perhaps just a little out of attraction, too. At least Rodney hoped so.

Katie Brown would never understand, either. She could never follow him to the ultimate, abstract and logical beauty of numbers; never accept to be second to his work. She would demand attention when his attention was needed elsewhere, and she would demand things he simply couldn't give. The whole flowers and chocolate and poems and candlelight things.

Rodney was not the right man for those things. And any chocolate he could lay hands on wandered into his stomach within seconds. But how was he supposed to make Katie understand that?

"You need to be honest to her," Miko said quietly. She had finished work for the day – the official part of work, that is – and was shutting down her laptop.

"I'm _always_ honest," Rodney snapped indignantly. "Strangely enough, people don't seem to appreciate my honesty."

Miko gave him a serene smile. "Oh, they do appreciate _what_ you say. They just don't appreciate _how_ you say it."

Rodney glared daggers at her. "Was that a not-so-subtle hint that I'm rude?"

"Of course not," Miko said tolerantly. "We're all used to your manners by now. Dr. Brown, however, is not. Be nice."

"Why should I?" Rodney asked in honest surprise. "I don't want her to become even more obsessed with me."

"Because it's not her fault that she's interested but you are not," Miko replied and left the lab, without asking him if he'll spend the night in her quarters or in his own.

She never asked, and Rodney was grateful for that.

* * *

His second – and definitely last – dinner with Katie was even more uncomfortable than the first one. She'd gone great lengths to make it a memorable event, preparing fresh, home-made food again, which was a waste, frankly, because Rodney couldn't appreciate it. As he'd repeatedly t old various people, he liked MREs and hospital food and any sort of junk, and couldn't tell the difference between them and a gourmet menu for the life of his. For him, quantity and availability had always been the deciding factor when it came to food, and the only important thing was the absence of citrus.

He tried to be nice, he really did. Firstly, because he had to keep working with Katie in the future. He couldn't avoid her for the rest of their lives; Atlantis wasn't big enough for _that_. And secondly, because Miko had been right. It wasn't Katie's fault that her crush on him remained unrequited. So he did his best to make this as painless as possible.

It didn't work, of course. Women could be spectacularly unreasonable when it came to emotional issues. It would have been an unpleasant situation, even without Cadman's interference back when she'd shared Rodney's body. Thank to that interference, the scene turned out very ugly, with tears and accusations and every other theatrical side effect of a so-called broken heart.

He didn't understand it, honestly. Speaking about a broken heart was a vast exaggeration in their case – they hadn't even been dating, for Pete's sake! Rodney didn't _do_ the dating thing, not even back on Earth, and even less here, where he wouldn't have the time for such mundane things, even if he wanted.

Which he did not. He was perfectly happy with the arrangement he had with Miko and with the friendships with Radek and Carson. Everything else would have only distracted him from his work, and given their precarious situation, he couldn't afford to be distracted. _Atlantis_ couldn't afford it.

It was a mystery for him how Katie had managed to build up her expectations without any encouragement from his side. _She_ had been the one to ask _him_ out repeatedly, despite the fact that he'd cancelled their dinner several times. Could she not see his reluctance, did she not understand that work would always come first for him?

And _if_ she understood that, why kept she pursuing him? She wasn't the kind of woman who'd be willing to retreat into the background most of the time. Why did women always blame the men when those couldn't fulfil their ridiculous expectations?

Yes, he was selfish and arrogant, but hell, everyone ought to know that by now, right? People only told him that, oh, about several hundred times a day or so. It wasn't exactly a secret. So, if Katie knew that, like everyone else, why did she expect him to be different with her? Out of _love_? Everyone knew that he didn't do love – or all that sentimental romance stuff.

* * *

He shook his head in defeat as he opened the door to Miko's quarters with a mental order. She could have locked him out – his artificial ATA gene was no match for her natural one – but she didn't. She never did.

He entered the living area, grateful that they'd found these more spacious suites and didn't have to live in the cramped little quarters anymore, and looked around for her. She was working, her small fingers dancing on the keyboard like those of a concert pianist. She was a true artist when it came to computers… and just as bad a workaholic as he was.

She sensed his presence, as always, and looked up in askance. "How did it go?"

"Ugly," he replied with a tired sigh. "It was ugly. But at least it's over now."

She nodded in understanding, not digging any deeper. She'd doubtlessly learn the details from the other women tomorrow.

"Do you want to go to bed?" she asked.

He knew if he said no, she would just nod and keep working. It was a comforting knowledge after Katie's hysterics. As he was prone to hysterics himself, the balance Miko provided was invaluable.

"Yes," he said tiredly, "let's go to bed."

Miko nodded, saved her work and logged out. Ten minutes later, showered and changed, they were in bed, Rodney curling himself around her small body and holding her like a lifeline. With her soothing presence next to him, he might be able to sleep four or five hours. Enough to function another day long.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by Soledad**

**Author's Note:**

Again, this part takes place at the same time as the previous one – just with a different set of characters. What intrigued me in the situation given in "Duet" was the question how would someone as claustrophobic as Rodney react to be crammed together with someone else in his body? It must have been a nightmare for him – I think the episode treated that side of the problem as insignificant. As a fellow claustrophobic, I happen to disagree.

**Spoilers:** Duet. Obviously.

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Cadman**

Rodney McKay never hated anyone in his life. Sure, ninety-nine point five per cent of the people he met annoyed and irritated him, and he didn't have the warmest feelings for his own family, especially for his parents, but he didn't _hate_ them. Not with the growing and obsessive intensity he'd come to hate Lieutenant Laura Cadman. Not even close.

It had been annoying enough that Cadman did everything in her might to set him up with Katie Brown _before_ she got trapped in his body. She was the sort of woman who didn't accept no for an answer, which wasn't surprising. She was a Marine, after all. A jarhead. A pretty one, granted, but still a jarhead. She'd always irritated him, but he could ignore her easily enough.

But _this_… Having her consciousness inside his head, having her _talking_ inside his head, having her make him do things while he was sleeping, things he'd never do on his own… this was unbearable. The suffocating closeness, the forced intimacy, the total lack of privacy… This was what Vulcan mind-meld had to be.

Or rape.

At least Vulcan mind-meld was a fictional thing – and usually consensual. He didn't know whether Cadman had access to his thoughts as well. So far, he hadn't found proof for that, and that was a relief. But it _could_ happen at some point… unless the seizures killed the body they were sharing first.

The worst thing was, he couldn't even flee to Miko. He didn't want Cadman – or anyone else – know about them. _Especially_ not Cadman, who was still delusional enough to play matchmaker between him and Katie.

Granted, he could have been more straightforward in rejecting Katie's advances. But he hadn't given the whole thing much thought, hoping that things would come to a natural end without him wasting attention on actually ending them.

Witch they would have, without Cadman's goddamn interference. Without her taking over in the most inappropriate moment and making him say things he'd never intended to say. Now it would be a lot harder to end things, and Katie would be hurt and angry, instead of giving up after a while.

No, he wasn't "grateful" for being given insight into the female psyche. He wasn't even _interested_ in the female psyche to begin with. He didn't want to learn more about women, especially not from Cadman, who was as far from what he needed and wanted in a woman as humanly possible.

It wasn't that he disliked strong women – on the contrary. Few women could be stronger than Carter, whom he still respected and admired greatly. Or Teyla, who, in a sense, fascinated him. And since Miko had overcome her fear for him, she'd shown a quiet inner strength that could move mountains – and on which he'd become to depend greatly.

So no, he had no problems with strong women. But he had problems with aggressive smart-asses, male or female alike. He freely admitted that he was one of those himself, and that was the core of the problem. One body – or one mind – was simply too crowded a place for two such people.

He wanted her out, even if it meant the death of them both. Hell the seizures ought to kill him within the next few days anyway, so what was the difference? At least it would end the constant violation of his body and mind. By the second day, he was practically looking forward to that final solution.

* * *

It was probably the utter desperation that sparked the idea, which, through Radek's reliable brilliance, led to the solution, in the end. He wouldn't have been able to live through another day with her in his head. He was becoming increasingly claustrophobic, which probably sounded weird, but it was the truth. Now he knew what multiple personality disorder was like. And though a death wish wasn't usually part of his idiosyncrasies, in this particular case he would have preferred death.

That Cadman made him kiss Carson before they finally got separated didn't help things, of course. Despite his one-time fling with Jonas Quinn, he was straight in his heart, and didn't want rumours of the opposite being spread. Besides, Carson was his friends – one of the very few he still had, now that both Grodin and Petersen were gone. He didn't want to lose that friendship, just because Cadman had the hots for the good doctor.

He knew the next few days would be awkward, at best. He also knew that if Carson would choose to start dating Cadman, he'd have no other choice than avoid Carson, at least for a while. The three of them together, regardless of the nature of any given situation – that would be too much of a strain on his limited social graces.

Which was one more reason to hate Cadman.

"You'll get over it," Miko said reassuringly, "and so will Dr. Beckett. He knows it wasn't you. Things will return to normal, soon."

He hoped fervently that she was right. Because losing Carson's friendship wouldn't be something he could forgive Cadman for. Ever.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**The Strange Encounters of Rodney McKay**

**by Soledad**

**Author's Notes:**

I decided to finish this story with this chapter. There are a lot more encounters that could be written, but I had to draw a line somewhere, and this is as good a place as any.

I don't remember ever having heard the name of McKay's cat, not in canon anyway. So I chose the easy way out and decided that she doesn't have a proper one.

Just a reminder: I work with an alternate version of Dr. Weir (the one played by the wonderful Jessica Steen), that's why she's called Theresa in all my stories.

**Spoilers:** Hot Zone, Trinity.

Rated 14+ for cursing.

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Miko**

He'd apologized to everyone. He'd admitted his mistake, although it nearly broke him to admit that he'd been wrong. He'd _never_ been wrong before, not in anything of true scientific importance, not in something that would have someone killed.

He'd endured Theresa's dressing down without as much a word of protest, despite the fact that it had happened publicly, with half of Atlantis' inhabitants watching. His credibility as a genius had suffered considerably, and he had to live with the consequences. Including the fact that Collins was dead, and that his team leader didn't trust him anymore.

"He'll learn to trust you again," Miko said, rubbing his tense shoulders with her strong, warm fingers. "But you'll have to earn his trust back. It won't be easy. Until now, he thought you couldn't make mistakes. Even if he questioned you, he trusted you blindly. That's dangerous. Once blind trust is broken, it's very hard to rebuild it on a more reasonable level."

Nobody knew it better than she. That was a part of her past she hadn't shared with Rodney yet. She wasn't sure that she ever would. She was there to lessen his burden, to add her own to it.

"What if I don't _want_ to fight for his trust?" Rodney said petulantly, but without true venom. Firstly because Miko's clever little fingers felt too good, digging into the aching muscles of his neck and shoulders, and secondly because he was too emotionally exhausted to work himself up to a proper fit.

He'd never felt this empty in his entire life.

"Oh, but you do," Miko replied with a forgiving smile. "He's your hero, after all."

"No, he's not!" Rodney protested. "I don't even like him! He's arrogant and self-centered, and he's a vest-pocket Casanova, a…"

"Hero worship doesn't necessarily require from you to _like_ your hero," Miko interrupted. "What counts is that he's everything you secretly want to be. He's smart – not a genius like you, but much smarter than the average soldier – he's popular… and he can afford to break the rules without severe retribution. _Of course_ you'd like to be like that, too. Who wouldn't?"

Rodney whirled around and glared daggers at her. "I'm not planning to enter a popularity game with James T. Sheppard!"

"Perhaps not, but that's what you're doing all the time," Miko stated calmly. "You want people to recognize your abilities, and you believe that Colonel Sheppard already has what you wish for. He does not."

"What are you talking about? Sure he does! He can do anything and get away with it, unpunished. And he can have any_one_ as a friend."

"Not _any_one," Miko corrected sternly. "He's popular, I'll give you that. But mostly, he's just lucky that his… how did Dr. Zelenka put it? That his cowboy methods haven't caused more damage so far."

"Oh, he did enough damage, I'd say," Rodney said bitterly. "He managed to allow the nanovirus to spread all over Atlantis, just because he wasn't willing to sit on his ass during quarantine, but nobody seems to remember _that_."

"I do," Miko said. "And I also remember that Dr. Weir wasn't happy. She just didn't have the means for proper retribution. She couldn't court-martial her without the necessary military authority."

"Nor did I see anyone shunning him," Rodney said morosely. "All he needed to do was to destroy a _naquadah_ generator – one of _my_ generators, by the way, which heroic deed cut our energy reserves considerably – and everything was forgotten. Everyone looks at _me_ as I was a leper. I made a mistake, yes, and someone died, yes, and it's all terrible and tragic, but why am I the only one who's _not_ allowed to make mistakes?"

"You are," Miko said soothingly, but Rodney shook her hand from his arm.

"Am I? That cocky flyboy has the cheek to tell me – _me_, who had saved his sorry ass and this whole goddamn city countless times – that he can't trust me anymore! And all the idiots who haven't got a clue what it means to pull a wonder out of my hat every odd week to solve our energy problems follow him in avoiding me. I'm fucking sorry, too, that Collins died, but _I am_ the one who'll have to live with that, so don't you think that they could perhaps show some understanding and forgive me?"

Miko could see that he was about to work himself into true hysterics, and she knew it wouldn't help him. He needed to admit his grief in order to get over it. He needed to face his insecurity in order to conquer it. Otherwise he'd never be the old Rodney McKay again.

"They will forgive you… in time," she said. "But they need some time first. Try to understand them. You're Rodney McKay, and people were not used to Rodney McKay making mistakes. They're disappointed now, and need to get used to the fact that you're a human being like everyone else. Larger than life, true, but still just a man."

Rodney blinked a few times as if that thought had never occurred to him – probably hadn't, he'd been too deeply submerged into guild and misery in the recent days – then he stole an anxious look at her.

"Are you… are you disappointed, too?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper. Miko shook her head thoughtfully.

"No. But I'm in a unique position. I'm the only one here who's seen you in your moments of weakness."

She took him in her arm, rubbing his back soothingly, until the shaking and the dry sobs decreased.

"Have they all turned against you?" she asked after a while. "Not one of them has forgiven you?"

Rodney, his face still buried in the crook of her neck, gave a sound that was half-sob and half-chuckle.

"None… with the exception of Radek. I've said the… the ugliest things to him, about professional jealousy and all that, and he… He gave me one of those funny looks, you know, over the rim of his glasses, and all he said was: 'I've already told you, McKay – you're not pleasant company when you're like this.' And then he went back to his work as if nothing happened."

Miko nodded, resting her chin on the top of his head.

"Dr. Zelenka is a generous man and a good friend. So, you see, you're not alone. You have him on your side – and you have me. The others will come around, eventually."

"They will?" Rodney's voice was small and frightened like that of a hurt little boy's. She had to smile.

"They will," she promised. "Just give them time."

"And you will stay with me?" he asked, still in that frightened little voice, and it broke her heart to see him so broken, his once so overbearing self-confidence shattered into tiny pieces.

But she couldn't break down, too, not now. He needed her to be strong. One of them had to be, and she'd come to understand a long time ago that – despite his apparent over-confidence in his own genius, despite his bitter sarcasm – Rodney was full of insecurities. Family histories like his could do that to a man.

"Of course I will," she replied calmly, trying to emanate a strength she didn't really feel. But she knew Rodney needed it; needed her to lean on.

"Always?" he asked in that small voice again, and Miko suppressed a sigh. For an arrogant, often rude man, he needed a lot of reassurance, and frightened out of her mind half the time as she was – like practically everyone else in Atlantis – it wasn't always easy for her to be the strong, supporting one.

"As long as you need me," she said simply. Rodney snorted.

"You might very well be in for a lifetime job," he warned.

She tilted her head to take a better look at his face. He looked a little better… less haunted that before, although pain and guilt were still clouding his otherwise so bright eyes.

"I can live with that," she said. He looked up into her eyes, and now there was a wonder in his voice.

"But why would you want to live like that?" he asked, and she knew he honestly didn't understand.

"Because I need you, too," she answered, and scooping up Mrs Kitty, who really needed a proper name, placed her in his arms. "We both do."

The End


End file.
